Gay Dating: A Hopeless Game of Impossible Odds

I have ruined things with someone very special. He was a rare, flawless man; peerless in every capacity. I had a chance at something amazing that comes around once in a lifetime and I failed. My best was not enough. I did not measure up to his perfection, so he abandoned me to pursue someone of higher caliber.

Coming to terms with the fact that I am not enough for someone worth being enough for has been nothing less than ruinous; I doubt I shall ever recover. My life has been a blur of tears and infirmity for months on end. I spend my days idle and destitute knowing that suicide is my only salvation.

Friends have bestowed me with trite words of post-breakup wisdom. In contemplating their musings I have become aware of an onerous truth that distresses me to no end: I will remain alone. You get one shot, rarely two. Fuck it up? You are done.

In fact, there simply are not "plenty of fish in the sea." The sea is a vast polluted one, scarce with diseased fish. And no, I will not "meet someone when [I] least expect it." The odds are simply not there.

In sum, gay dating is a hopeless game of quantifiable numbers and impossible odds:

From the outset, sexual orientation puts us all at a grave disadvantage. At least 95% of the population is a heterosexual dead end. Applying even the most rudimentary of parameters to the remaining homosexual 5% drives the number of potential parters for any one gay man to a dismal low. After factoring in further specifics, and culling through the leftover suitors, the number of matches approaches zero.

Let us take the demographics of the United States' most populous county, Los Angeles, as an example of a best case scenario. With a population of around 10 million, a mere 5% at best are gay males. So I have 500,000 mates to choose from, assuming I would blindly accept anyone drawing breath.

Now, suppose I only date men around my age, a perfectly reasonable requisite. The US census shows that approximately 25% of Los Angeles county is between the age of 18 and 35. So now I have 125,000 potential partners.

I think most would agree that sexual attraction is fundamental to building and sustaining a healthy relationship. Given a random sample of the aforementioned 18-35 year old gay men in Los Angeles, I might generously find about 1 in 20 attractive. Now only 6,250 potential matches exist.

So, we can see that even using the most cursory of filters, namely finding gay men in a specific geographic area of reasonable age and attractiveness, I am left with a few thousand matches at best.

But wait! How many of these men meet more nebulous, but equally important criteria? How many are educated? How many are honest? How many are genuine, intelligent, fun, interesting, affectionate and good? Are we sexually compatible? Do we share any interests?

Now suddenly a few hundred candidates remain at most. For the sake of calculation, let us say 500.

Of those, how many are already taken? How many find me attractive? Would any of them consider me boyfriend material? An optimistic estimate might be 5% of the 500 remaining candidates... or 25 people.

There you have it. A scant 25 potential partners exist in all of Los Angeles county.

TWENTY FIVE PEOPLE.

You may quibble about the exact number, but ultimately, whether it be 1 or 1000 does not matter. The number is so small in any case that it may as well be zero. Of that impossibly small handful of matches, how likely is it that I will ever cross paths with any one of them at the right moment? SLIM TO NONE.

Clearly, there is no factory churning out masses of eligible, datable men. There are a precious few matches at best, and even then it is likely that we will never meet under the right circumstances.

" I did not measure up to his trascendant perfection, so he abandoned me to pursue someone of higher caliber. "

Then wasn't that the problem? That you were pursuing what I guess is the male ideal when you yourself are not? Love isn't all about looks but to say it's not an inseparable part of it is a denial of fact.

I know it sucks to lose out on a chance like that but, now, you can start training to become more ideal so, sometime down the road, you meet someone who sees you as the ideal male.

readytogo83So well tailored to me as the perfect mate was he that I can scarcely comprehend it.

Nope. That's a lie. If it were true, you'd be with him.

He was well tailored to the fantasy idea of who you imagine to be your perfect mate. The thing about fantasy husband though is that the image of him typically hides the most important thing: the deeply flawed man he is supposed to be with (you).

readytogo83So well tailored to me as the perfect mate was he that I can scarcely comprehend it.

Nope. That's a lie. If it were true, you'd be with him.

He was well tailored to the fantasy idea of who you imagine to be your perfect mate. The thing about fantasy husband though is that the image of him typically hides the most important thing: the deeply flawed man he is supposed to be with (you).

readytogo83 saidI have ruined things with someone very special. He was a rare, flawless man; peerless in every capacity. I had a chance at something beautiful that comes around once in a lifetime and I failed. My best was not enough. I did not measure up to his trascendant perfection, so he abandoned me to pursue someone of higher caliber.

Was he really all these things? Or were they his vanity, or your unrealistic expectations?

I had a BF like that in a way. I really liked him, but he had an inflated view of himself. Actually told me I didn't have enough money to be in his league, lacked his connections, his class, his upbringing. So he went off to find a "higher calibre" than me, as your guy did I guess, he even told me so to my face.

I note that 5 years later he's still single, and about to turn 60. And now he phones me and wants me back, admits he didn't realize what he had in me, concedes that my upbringing was far superior to his own rather humble origins.

My thought is that either you have a distorted view of this guy, or else he has one of himself. I'm not sure you ruined anything, but rather may have escaped just in time, as I did.

As for your gay numbers game, forget it. Your methodology is flawed. You live in LA, a guy for you is there. The secret is to circulate, circulate, circulate, in person and online. Be seen, see others, and you will succeed.

readytogo83 saidI have ruined things with someone very special. He was a rare, flawless man; peerless in every capacity. I had a chance at something beautiful that comes around once in a lifetime and I failed. My best was not enough. I did not measure up to his trascendant perfection, so he abandoned me to pursue someone of higher caliber.

So well tailored to me as the perfect mate was he that I can scarcely comprehend it. My every desire and need manifest in a single person. He was husband material through and through.

Coming to terms with the fact that I am not enough for someone worth being enough for has been nothing less than ruinous; I doubt I shall ever recover. My life has been a blur of tears and infirmity for months on end. I spend my days idle and destitute knowing that suicide is my only salvation.

Friends have been eager to bestow trite words of post-breakup wisdom upon me. In contemplating their musings I have become aware of an onerous truth that distresses me to no end: It is certain that I will be forever alone. You get one shot at love, rarely two. Fuck it up? You are done.

In fact, there simply are not "plenty of fish in the sea." The sea is a vast polluted one, scarce with diseased fish. And no, I will not "meet someone when [I] least expect it." The odds are simply not there.

In sum, gay dating is a hopeless game of quantifiable numbers and impossible odds:

From the outset, sexual orientation puts us all at a grave disadvantage. At least 95% of the population is a heterosexual dead end. Applying even the most rudimentary of parameters to the remaining homosexual 5% drives the number of potential parters for any one gay man to a dismal low. After factoring in further specifics, and culling through the leftover suitors, the number of matches approaches zero.

Let us take the demographics of the United States' most populous county, Los Angeles, for example. With a population of around 10 million, a mere 5% at best are gay males. So I have 500,000 mates to choose from, assuming I would blindly accept anyone drawing breath.

Now, suppose I only date men around my age, a perfectly reasonable requisite. The United States census shows that approximately 25% of Los Angeles county is between the age of 18 and 35. So now I have 125,000 potential partners.

I think most would agree that sexual attraction is fundamental to building and sustaining a healthy relationship. Given a random sample of the aforementioned 18-35 year old gay men in Los Angeles, I might generously find about 1 in 20 attractive. Now only 6,250 potential matches exist.

So, we can see that even using the most cursory of filters, namely finding gay men in a specific geographic area of reasonable age and attractiveness, I am left with a few thousand matches at best.

But wait! How many of these men meet more nebulous, but equally important criteria? How many are educated? How many are honest? How many are genuine, intelligent, fun, interesting, affectionate and good? Are we sexually compatible? Do we share any interests? Does he like to cuddle?

Now suddenly a few hundred candidates remain at most. For the sake of calculation, let us say 500.

Of those, how many are already taken? How many find me attractive? Would any of them consider me husband or even boyfriend material? An optimistic estimate might be 5% of the 500 remaining candidates... or 25 people.

There you have it. A scant 25 potential partners exist in all of Los Angeles county.

TWENTY FIVE PEOPLE.

You may quibble about the exact number, but ultimately, whether it be 1 or 1000 does not matter. The number is so small in any case that it may as well be zero. Of that impossibly small handful of matches, how likely is it that I will ever cross paths with any one of them at the right moment? SLIM TO NONE.

Clearly, there is no factory churning out masses of quality, datable men. There are a precious few matches at best, and even then it is likely that we will never meet under the right circumstances.

I am so fucked. I want to drive an auger drill deep into my skull to rout the despair from my consciousness. Kill me now, please.

Here's a tip: throw away your thesaurus. Also, is this your first breakup? It sounds like a melodramatic "I'll-never-love-again-nobody-will-make-me-feel-this-way" thing that most people got through in high school.

Join a gay sports group or softball team or go to the local gay center or get involved in gay volunteer work or go to a gay bar or go hang out in the gay part of town. . .

. . . and 100% of the males there are gay.

From that group of 10 or 100 or 1,000 it's likely you'll find a guy or two or three or more who is attracted to you and who you are attracted to.

(BTW, the logic you're using could also be applied to straight people. Using higher numbers to accomodate the higher number of straights, and using your criteria, you still come up "slim to none," albeit with slightly higher numbers.)

Quit worrying about your assumptions and arithmetic, and go out and meet people.

readytogo83 said Coming to terms with the fact that I am not enough for someone worth being enough for has been nothing less than ruinous; I doubt I shall ever recover. My life has been a blur of tears and infirmity for months on end. I spend my days idle and destitute knowing that suicide is my only salvation. ...I am so fucked. I want to drive an auger drill deep into my skull to rout the despair from my consciousness. Kill me now, please.

readytogo83 said Coming to terms with the fact that I am not enough for someone worth being enough for has been nothing less than ruinous; I doubt I shall ever recover. My life has been a blur of tears and infirmity for months on end. I spend my days idle and destitute knowing that suicide is my only salvation. ...I am so fucked. I want to drive an auger drill deep into my skull to rout the despair from my consciousness. Kill me now, please.

I commit myself to God' s Providence. I know there is a guy out there for me & I hope he knows I'm praying he's alright everyday we aren't together & that he knows each day that passes is just one more day closer to our time.